


Salem's Academy for Wizards (the Tales Mama Forgot to Tell You remix)

by amfiguree



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Wizards can screw up administrative work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salem's Academy for Wizards (the Tales Mama Forgot to Tell You remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [salem's academy for wizards](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/34126) by aohatsu. 



> Written for called_me_lovely's remix challenge on livejournal.

David doesn't know how he sees the flyer that day (and he doesn't doesn't _doesn't_ think _magic_ when it drops gently into his hand, almost out of nowhere) but it says WANDS AND WIZARDRY and _all are welcome!_ and also something about a dragon, so David stuffs it in his back pocket and hurries into the library.  
  
"Sorry," he says, when he gets inside, even though he knows Brooke totally doesn't mind him being late (not that it happens a lot, because David is a lot of things - like socially-awkward and weird and _really_ prone to accidents - but late isn't usually one of them).  
  
"The books aren't going anywhere, David," Brooke says, smiling. Which--for anyone else, that would be normal, but David still thinks he sees books flying sometimes (recent sometimes -- like last week, or _yesterday_ ) while he's doing the shelving, so it's all he can do to make himself smile back.  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
Only one book disappears that afternoon, and only, like, two and a half switch titles. (David will never be able to look at _Hard Times_ without blushing again.)  
  
All in all, it's a quiet day.  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
"Hey Dave," Brooke says, later, as he comes up to her desk. "Got any plans tonight?"  
  
She's still smiling (she's _always_ smiling, which is totally what makes her one of David's favorite people) but Carly's with her too, scanning the computer, and David almost hesitates. He loves Carly, she's awesome, but she's also, um, kind of terrifying? And he really doesn't want to be dragged to a strip club a second time.  
  
"Um," he settles for saying, and Carly looks up at him and says, "Really? David, it's _Friday_."  
  
"Gotta get down on Friday," David sings, unthinkingly, and Carly looks like she wishes the ground would swallow her whole.  
  
"This is why Brooke is pretty much your entire social circle," Carly says long-sufferingly.  
  
Behind her, a table of kids from the University are watching him, giggling, but they turn away as soon as they realize he's seen them, and David feels himself flush. He should be used to it by now, he _is_ , it's just--  
  
The kids let out a collective gasp as their pens jump out of their grips, and David blinks and swallows and looks away.  
  
He just sees things like that all the time, is the problem.  
  
"David," Brooke says, gently. "You need to get out a little more."  
  
"You're going to go stir-crazy if you keep this hermit thing up," Carly agrees.  
  
David feels a brief surge of panic rise in his throat at that, which is probably why he curls his fingers around the flyer in his back pocket and says, "Um, actually--"  
  
Carly laughs for a full minute when he tells her he's going for, "a, um, a social self-help group? Thing?" but after she's wiped her eyes, she adds, "It's not fair from where I'm headed, if you want a lift?" so it's not even like David can be mad.  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
The thing is, David never actually makes the meeting.  
  
He gets Carly to drop him off about three blocks down from the actual location on the flyer, because he doesn't know if the people at the meeting are going to be, like, into cosplay and wearing robes and sticking plastic wands behind their ears and stuff--which, David doesn't mind all that, he just knows Carly will laugh _forever_ if she realizes what kind of meeting he's actually going for, and he really doesn't need that at work every day.  
  
Except now--  
  
"Hey," David hears, and then there's a hand on his shoulder. A nearby window shatters as he whips around, but he's the only one flinching; the stranger just holds out his hands, clearly surprised, and says, "Sorry, man, didn't mean to startle you. Are you lost?"  
  
"Oh," David says, embarrassed. "Um, yes? I was - I'm looking for Salem Market?"  
  
There's a pause before the stranger says, "Uh." Then he seems to shake himself enough to add, "Yeah, sure. It's not far away. I'll take you."  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
The stranger - David (Cook) - insists they stop for food at a diner along the way. David makes to protest but his stomach starts to growl ( _traitor_ ) and he doesn't really have an excuse that doesn't involve explaining about the WANDS AND WIZARDRY meeting without sounding like a total weirdo.  
  
"So what are you doing out here alone on a Friday night?" Cook asks, once they're settled at a booth.  
  
David colors immediately. "Oh," he says. "Nothing? I just - you know. Walking."  
  
"Huh. You didn't go to school around Salem, did you?"  
  
"Oh," David says, surprised at the non-sequitur. "No. No, I only moved to Utah a couple of months ago. I went to school in Florida--um. Before. "  
  
"Yeah? Do you have family in these parts?"  
  
"No," David says. "That's kind of why I moved."  
  
That's kind of why he _kept_ moving.  
  
He's always been prone to accidents; shillings fell off roofs around him, puddles of rainwater bubbled, flowers bloomed. He'd tried to explain, but--  
  
 _There's no such thing as magic_ , his Dad had said, and his Mom had looked at him, terrified (for or _of_ him, David still isn't sure) and added _there's a place nearby, a facility, we just want to help, Davey, please._  
  
And David just -- he couldn't.  
  
He's been drifting ever since, moving from place to place, just waiting for--something. The six weeks he's spent in Murray is the longest he's been stationary.  
  
"Yeah," Cook says, quietly. "I get that."  
  
Something in his voice makes David think he probably does, and there's a spark of hope and heat in his stomach at the thought.  
  
"So," Cook says, smile wan but genuine, "that brings me back to my original question. What are you doing out here alone on a Friday night?"  
  
"...Walking?" David offers, again, but Cook's smile doesn't waver and after a second, David laughs, a little deprecatingly, and looks away. "No, it's true. My friends were going to ask me out to, like, a club or something, I guess, I don't know, and I -- I'm not actually, um," he says, fumbling with his words and hands both. "I'm not great with people?"  
  
"Could've fooled me," Cook says, laughing, teasing but gentle, and it's the first time David feels like he's exactly where he's meant to be.  
  
Cook's cutlery jerks a little, and David's knee jerks right alongside it. Cook doesn't even seem to notice.  
  
"Come on," he says, holding out a hand as he pushes away from the table, and David's pulse flutters. "I think there's something I need to show you. Barb," he adds, to the waitress who's passing by their table. "We're gonna need to use the Floo."  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
"Oh my gosh," David says. He's still doubled over, hands on his knees, winded and shaken. "Oh my _gosh._ "  
  
"Yeah," Cook says. He's grinning, but his eyes are dark, focused. "You've covered that."  
  
"But I--" David says, turning back to look at the fireplace (if it _is_ a fireplace). "We just -- we were in the diner, and--"  
  
"And now we're in Salem Market."  
  
"But how--"  
  
"Magic," Cook says. The word rolls off his tongue so easily that David feels his chest grow tight.  
  
It's instinctive, the way David almost says, "But magic isn't _real_." Only--he doesn't. Because he can't. Not after that. _Meant to be,_ David catches himself thinking, and grins.  
  
And apparently sets off a chain of fireworks.  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
"Yeaaaaaaaaaah," Cook says, after. Both his eyebrows are singed, but he's grinning, so David bites back the apology about to leap off his tongue. "Pretty sure you're a wizard."  
  
"What else have I missed?" he asks instead, butterflies still flip-flopping in his stomach.  
  
"Let's see," Cook says, settling an arm around David's shoulders and leaning in, almost conspiratorially. "First of all, we've got to get you into Salem Academy. And second--well. That could take a while."  
  
"I've got time," David says, without thinking, and if he sounds a little breathless, Cook doesn't call him on it.  
  


**c============ ☆**

  
  
It takes another month or two, but he finally gets his letter.  
  
(It's addressed _to Mr. David Archuleta, third room from the right and upstairs, 392 Bay Lane, Murray, Utah_ , and it's a little creepy that whoever sent it knows the exact room he's in, but--)  
  
 _He gets his letter._  
  
"Oh," David says, holding it gingerly in his hands.  
  
"Well, it's about damn time," Cook says. "They're only seven years late."  
  
"I moved around a lot," David qualifies.  
  
"That's not a good excuse," Cook says, and shrugs. "But it's here now, so there's that."  
  
"Um," David says, willing himself to sound less terrified. "Yes, but--I have no idea what I'm doing."  
  
"You'll figure it out," Cook says, wrapping a warm hand around David's neck, and David feels a spark of heat in his blood that even finding his wand, finding _magic_ , hasn't equaled.  
  
"Are you," he says, and takes a deep breath when his voice falters. "Will you come visit me?"  
  
"About that," Cook says. "Uh. I may have applied for a teaching position in Muggle Studies at Salem. And gotten it."  
  
"Um," David says again, fainter.  
  
Cook grins. It's almost sheepish. "What's your take on a permanent lunch partner?"  
  
(David actually means to set off the fireworks that time.)


End file.
